


Music Lesson

by PhoenixReviving



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Connor Needs A Hug, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Summaries, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 22:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixReviving/pseuds/PhoenixReviving
Summary: Connor has no idea how to express his emotions. Thankfully, Markus is there to help him.





	Music Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> My second fic! This, like my first one, took hold of my brain and wouldn't let go until I'd written it. Now that it's done, I'm gonna grab a beer to get rid of the resulting headache.

 

 

 

 

Connor can play the piano quite well, of course. His memory files include complete instructions, along with simulated servo memory. He can play anything put before him with ease and precision.

Why, then, is Markus frowning?

He isn't exactly frowning, of course. But there is the way his lips and brow are ever so slightly tense, his expressive eyes flitting from Connor’s hands to his face and back. He isn't satisfied with Connor’s technically flawless performance.

So Connor stops before the cadenza and looks at him. “What?” He's slightly frustrated - after all, it hadn't been _his_ idea for him to play in the first place. Markus had cajoled him into trying it, even going so far as to say _please_ and giving him a look identical to that of a hopeful, begging puppy - and there had been no way for Connor to keep saying no. It simply hadn't been possible.

So why is Markus dissatisfied?

“Music isn't just notes on the screen, Connor.”

The other android cocks his head minutely, a light frown of his own resting on his features.

“It's more than that. It’s… It's an expression of emotion, a way to tell a story.”

Connor looks down at the keys as if they are now an unknown and potentially dangerous animal.

Markus just barely snickers at the sight, gently nudging him over on the bench. “Here. Let’s try this.” He reaches over and plays a simple bass pattern. It’s slow and not particularly interesting - certainly no challenge compared to the Mozart that Connor had just been playing. “Do that for a bit.”

Connor just shrugs and humors him, lifting his fingers to the keys. After two repetitions, Markus closes his eyes and begins to play a melody; his hands seem to wander over the keys as he sways slightly, and Connor is instantly entranced. The melody is ever-changing - slow and sorrowful at times, peaceful and lilting at others. Connor watches, cataloging the various emotions as they flow across Markus’s face, and he begins to understand the relationship between those emotions and the melody of the keys under his fingers. Markus turns his head as the music brightens again, turning playful as a spark of mischief enters Markus’s eyes.

The melody ends, and Connor is smiling softly in return. Markus offers his hand, dismissing the artificial skin, and the other android gladly does the same.

Their hands clasp, and Connor can feel the sorrow, the joy, and the love that Markus feels during the music. He sees how Markus projects his emotions through his fingers, the keys becoming a temporary extension of himself. It’s as if Markus is pouring out his woes, his hopes, and his happiness into the room for Connor to hear.

It is daunting. Connor has never been good with showing real emotion - Hank tells him all the time that his face is still goofy and his smiles are vaguely disturbing sometimes. How could this be any different?

_Music can express what words and faces cannot,_ says Markus through their connection. _Stop overthinking it and just let it happen._

_I'm not sure I can help it,_ Connor admits. _I was programmed to be as analytical as possible._

_You are more than your programming,_ replies Markus swiftly. After a moment, he adds, _You are so much more._

Connor silently doubts.

_Pick a moment that you felt strong emotion,_ Markus suggests. _A moment that affected you deeply. Remember it, let it fill you as you play._

Images flash through Connor’s head and the connection - enduring Amanda’s dissatisfied stare, seeing Hank on the floor through the kitchen window, giving the gun back to Kamski, ripping down his objectives, seeing a glimmer of blue through a howling blizzard, collapsing into Hank’s welcoming arms outside a deserted burger stand. So many dizzying moments, but none of them feel quite right.

Most of them are just _too much._

Sensing his rising stress, Markus covers Connor’s wrist with his other hand. _Maybe one day,_ he soothes, sorrow welling up from his mind into their connection at all the pain in Connor’s memories. _For now, try to find something a little easier to bear._

Connor’s mind eventually settles on a moment: the first time Markus and he had connected. He'd been leaning against the wall -

_Brooding,_ Markus helpfully corrects.

_I was not!_ denies Connor hotly.

Markus replies with an image from his own perspective of Connor blending into the shadows, shoulders hunched, arms crossed, head down, eyes troubled. _What do you call it, then?_ he teases.

With more than a touch of embarrassment, Connor grumbles, _Stop interrupting me. You're making this difficult._

_Sorry,_ Markus instantly apologizes, genuinely contrite. _Please continue._

He'd been leaning against the wall, definitely _not_ brooding, when Markus had approached. _Why do you never talk with the others?_ the leader had asked.

_Because I do not belong with them,_ Connor had bitterly replied.

Markus’s eyes had filled with sadness. _You risked death and worse for them, Connor. No one deserves it more._

And then, Markus had held out a hand, gleaming white in the dusk. _If you will not share your burdens with them, at least share them with me._

Connor had simply stared for a moment, struggling to comprehend the offer through the bitter swirl of guilt and hopelessness. His hand, however, moved forward just slightly, skin fading away of its own accord, and Markus had grabbed it.

The first brush of their minds had been a chaotic mess of despair, hope, loneliness, acceptance, grief, and bittersweet joy. When they came back to themselves, Connor had been clinging to Markus hard enough to dent his outer shell.

That memory, too, is almost too much, but Connor knows immediately that it is _right._ Markus blinks as their present connection fades and the piano comes to life.

The liquid melody pours from Connor’s hands, weaving sorrow and joy together. It is hope combating hopelessness, peace soothing away turmoil. Tears spring to Markus’s eyes as the glistening, turbulent improvisation fills the house with the precious music, more beautiful than he has ever imagined to be possible. The passage of time ceases to matter as Markus listens to Connor’s voiceless cry, his wordless struggles flowing into the world around him through the sounds.

Eventually, the keys fall silent. The last echoes fade, but the two androids remain perfectly still for another moment, reluctant to break the spell. Markus sees his own tears mirrored in the face before him. Connor slowly stands and pulls him into a hug, a few more tears dampening Markus’s shoulder.

Though it feels as if everything has already been said, Markus quietly murmurs, “That was beautiful.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you enjoyed. Kudos and comments are a huge help in the writing process!
> 
> In a past life, I was a musician, and I am intimately acquainted with expressing things in music that I couldn't put into words. If you're struggling with life, consider learning a creative skill. It helps.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
